


Who Took These Pictures?

by atinylemon



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/F, Pining, Pre-FWWM, Pre-Peaks, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atinylemon/pseuds/atinylemon
Summary: Donna tries to reconcile the bittersweet up and downs of her long standing friendship with Laura Palmer.





	Who Took These Pictures?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lynzee005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynzee005/gifts).



> In these final moments before the new season, it was nice to explore some of Donna and Laura's relationship as a wonderfulxstrange gift for Lynzee005. In the universe, we get Donna in grief, and Laura in distress, but the intersection where they're just girls isn't very wide. (Although, I suppose how could it be.) The prompt wanted to see them, "trying to be each other's best friend," which was a good reminder that at the core of it, that's what they were. 
> 
> Also: Special thanks to tumblr user suburbandirt for proofing this for me and guidance during revisions, you're the real MVP. 
> 
> If Donna's there in Season 3, I wish her all the best.

“So I’m what, the chaperone?” I had asked, only half joking. 

Laura smiled and said, “Bring pickles,” and left me leaning against my locker. Typical. 

Ask any of my teachers, I’m good at following directions, I just may not always like it.  
So, I bought pickles.

The parking lot at the trail mouth still has snow stuck between its spaces and gaps. I’m surprised to see it. The snow in town had been gone for weeks and yet, here it was, filthy and forgotten, looking wholly different from when it arrived. I think about this and congratulate myself of resisting the cute boots for a more all terrain pair.

My driving companion has been a paper bag with the aforementioned pickles, a can of whipped cream, a basket of strawberries and a tupperware of potato salad, my mom’s idea.  
Cause, “That’s what you take on a picnic,” and, “I’m glad you’re spending time with Laura again.” Like it was ever my choice. 

She loves Laura, but sometimes I wonder if she’s hoping her “can-do” attitude will rub off on me. 

Laura, can do anything. 

For instance, Laura can stop returning my calls for a month. 

But, she’s busy yknow? Any college would be happy to have her. She’s got a list of extracurriculars as long as my arm. All while juggling two boyfriends.

I only have one boyfriend and I have trouble keeping up. 

Mike’s just fine though. Plus, he’s on the football team AND the wrestling team. All the girls seem to like him so, I think I made out pretty good. 

Sometimes though, he sort of feels like a consolation prize, like a year’s supply of Noodle Roni. A parting gift for wanting to spend more time with your friend without begging.  
Thanks for playing, better luck next time. 

Still he thinks I'm pretty and sometimes, he’s even nice. 

Nothing like Laura’s new guy though, James is awfully nice. 

James likes picnics.

Mike likes taking me to the roadhouse or behind the supermarket where the trucks unload to make out. That’s romantic too right? That’s just like a picnic. 

James likes motorcycles. 

And Laura likes James. 

So, I like James too. 

I like thinking of him riding her up the mountain on his bike. I like thinking of the wind wrapping her up and pulling at her clothes as she holds on to James. It grabs at her hair and kisses her cheeks till they’re as rosy and bright as her lips. It tells her things, right in her ear so she can hear it above the roar of the motorcycle. Her laugh roars back. The wind makes her eyes water, so she can’t see the town, or the world, or me.

It's good for her. James is so good.

If that's what a “can-do attitude” will get you, then sign me up. But...I don't think meeting a boy in the mountains is what mom had in mind.

It’s a longer walk than I would have liked and more than once I thought of just turning around.  
It’s not good to be in the woods, alone with your thoughts. 

Was it really so much of a chore to just spend time together just the two of us?  
Am I that much of a drag?  
Am I getting more exercise now than in PE? 

These are all important questions but I forget all about them as soon as I see her. 

Then I make new ones. 

Like, does Laura say everyone’s name like that? Like a sigh, or a wish.  
And, how does Laura still look so pretty under all our layers of shirts and sweaters? 

Her cheeks are as red and rosy as I expected and she smiles at me in the most easy going way. So easy that it makes me a little angry. She got to fly up here, I had to crawl.  
It’s fine, of course. I really don’t mind. 

“James! Look who’s here.” She sways over to me and peaks in my bag.  
“Let’s see, from Ma Hayward I presume,” she says as she jostles the potato salad from its resting position above the pickles, “Oh good! You brought them.”

“How could I forget? You only gave me one job.”

“And I knew you’d go the extra mile,” she twirls a strawberry in the air and takes a bite,  
“Little Miss Overachiever.” 

“That’s what they call me,” I force a smile. We both seem uneasy, and I can’t figure out why. It wasn’t a compliment, I knew that much. She didn’t mean it though. We were both looking for a way in. 

“It’s just a little ways further, I think,” James had walked his bike over to us, leather jacket and all. A basket, teeters on a rack above the back tire. “Hey Donna!”

“Hi James!” I try to match his enthusiasm, which I appreciate. Maybe I won’t be as much of a third wheel as I thought. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Laura starts off a little impatiently, even though it seems like James is the one who knows where we’re going. I let them sidle up next to each other and I walk a little bit behind. We all talk though, and James asks me about the one class we all share.  
This was the most I had heard James Hurley talk about anything. 

Maybe Laura was good for him too. Mutually beneficial. 

Didn’t we learn about that in biology? Two different species from different worlds come together and they help each other somehow. They protect each other or provide food and stuff or something like that. The homecoming queen and the quiet biker, as different as can be.  
I could write a paper on it, send it off to a scientific journal. Studies of the teenage ecosystem. 

When we finally stop, James leans his bike gently and makes sure its steady. Then he opens the basket and takes out a blanket. Laura has gone to look over the edge, so he hands it to me as he unstraps the basket from the bike. Suddenly, she spins around and yells, “This is exactly what I need right now!” She beams at James but somehow it sounds angry to me. 

James doesn’t seem to think so. He did good. He made her happy and this makes him happy, so he puts the basket down next to me and strolls over to let her know as much.  
I’m taking notes, for my paper of course. 

“See? I knew this was a good idea,” He tells her and with his arms around her waist, he rocks her back and forth. They become part of the horizon they’re looking out at, like two sickly trees.

It’s sort of hypnotic. So much so, that when he starts to kiss her neck, I can barely look away. 

But I do. 

The ground around us is bare, just dirt and wood chips and weeds. Nothing pretty yet until March, and even then it’ll probably just be more weeds, but at least they’ll have flowers. There’s movement though, the tiniest dots push and fuss about the dirt. You don’t see them at first. Mites I guess. I’m no good at gardening, I don’t think they’ll bother us though. They’re so little.  
Once I see them I can’t help but see more, moving the whole earth. I let my eyes go out of focus and the dirt and the bugs and the nettles go gauzy and blend together like cream in coffee.  
The heat slowly leaves my face. Too many layers I guess, making me too warm.  
They don’t drape over me like they do Laura. I’m beginning to think they never will.

When I look back up she’s looking at me, so I start unpacking the basket again.  
“Laura, I thought I was the overachiever. Are we expecting anyone else?” I ask. It’s a baffling amount of food for just the three of us. 

Besides what I brought, there was a whole red velvet cake, a loaf of bread, an assortment of cold cuts and cheeses, mustard, fried chicken, and two bags of chips. To wash it all down, Laura had brought cans of ginger ale and of course, champagne. She brought actual cups, no plastic. If that’s not the most Laura thing, I don’t know what is. 

“I was hungry, So sue me.” 

The two of them, still tangled, walk back over over to the blanket where I’m busying myself. Laura flops down next to me but James fishes something out of the basket and walks back to the edge. A camcorder, Laura’s I bet. I suspect that all James has in the world is that bike and jacket.

“And where did this come from?” I shake the champagne lightly.

She glances up quickly and looks back down with an eye roll, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I never do.” That is a lie. 

“You don’t have to have any.” She sing songs at me.

“We’ll see. Maybe I’m as thirsty as you are hungry.”

“Well, you better pace yourself then. There’s only room for two on the bike.”

This was sincere and it kills me. I hate it more than if she was trying to be mean. So I can’t worry about her but she can worry about me? Whatever. I’m not as prudish as Laura thinks. I drink. I had plenty of fun while she was so busy doing whatever she was doing. 

I have friends. I have a lot of friends. They’re just not Laura. But then again who is?

“I’m not sure…” I can hear James muttering behind us as he fusses over the camcorder. 

“You’re gonna run out the tape.”

“Wait! There it goes!” James is excited as he pans over the horizon. 

Laura grabs the bottle from me and stands up, “James! Get over here and open this for us.” 

I’m a little surprised, she could do it herself but then James smiles and jogs over. Maybe she likes that, bossing him around. He stops a minute to pass the camera lens over the blanket, Laura’s laid everything out artfully. I stand up too, for the ceremony of it all. The cork sails over the side of the ridge and gives me a shock even though I know it’s coming. Laura just laughs and scrambles to grab the glasses as the bubbles ooze and sputter from lips of the bottle. 

James motions the glass away before Laura can even offer, “None for me thanks, I gotta ride the bike back down.” 

That’s cute I guess. I take a glass out of her hands, tell James to, “fill’er up.” He smiles and I see him shoot Laura a look. She’s doing her best not to seem amused. “Oh c’mon.” I take the bottle from him, and pour it myself and then pour Laura a glass. 

“Alright,” she smirks and without missing a beat, she hooks her arm around my arm with the glass in it. To be able to have her glass reach her lips she has to pull me close and our hips our hips clatter together. It’s about as startling as that champagne cork. 

“Bottom’s up,” and she presses her lips to the glass. So do I, knowing that I can’t stop until she does. I’m glad I didn’t fill the damn things.

The champagne fizz is like little fireworks in my head. My little baby brain cells, exploding in a blaze of glory and light. Laura’s full of light and for a second I wonder if it's the champagne at all, maybe it’s just her. It’s warm next to her, maybe that’s the alcohol too. Warm like summer time. Warm like sunburn. Hot and peppery. The bubbles popping on my tongue. Blistering and bright.  
It’s the Fourth of July and I don’t want to miss a moment, so I don’t take my eyes off her and she’s looking at me too. There’s no grand finale though, she lets me off easy and uncoils herself from me half way through the glass.

James, sensing this is the end of some weird ritual, claps his hands together excitedly and says, “Great! Let’s eat, I’m starving.” 

James is the first one to the blanket but for all Laura’s planning, it’s a little too small for the three of us, the basket, and the food. Without a word, he takes off his jacket, and bunches it into a cushion for himself. He looks more at home without it anyway. Laura and I take separate corners and start moving things around slightly so we’re more comfortable. 

James seems pleased enough to listen to us gossip about this and that, interjecting here and there. That Laura is even aware of the goings on of our peers is beyond me, but I guess when you’re Homecoming Queen, it’s important to keep your fingers on the pulse. 

Eventually, when we’re just pushing around bits of sandwich crusts and our fingers are sticky with potato chips Laura bubbles up at announces, “It’s time for the next course.” She’s pleasantly flushed, not drunk. I, on the other hand, find I’m swimming a little, so without getting up I take a minute to help Laura move our trash. James is up and fiddling with the camcorder again.

“Donna, can you get off the blanket for a second? I want to straighten it out.” She asks, while giving me a once over. It looks pretty straight to me. 

“Um, sure.” A quick risk assessment tells me this should be fine, if I take it slow and lean into it.  
Instead, James looks up and extends two hands to me. They’re softer than I expect, kinda squishy, a little sweaty.

“Alley-Oop!” He laughs as he pulls me up. I laugh too, but I can feel my cheeks flush as I fall into him. So much for discretion. I can’t tell if Laura was watching us, but I assume she is. Isn’t she always? She knows everything, I’m never sure how. She always knows what I’m thinking.  
Still, I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. 

“Whoops!” I say a little loudly, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh that’s alright Donna,” James sets me right and pats me on the shoulder in the most fraternal way I can imagine. Yup nothing happening here. 

“Don’t make me separate you two,” Laura mutters, but sorta smiles to herself. 

“It’s the champagne,” I say half heartedly. So she did see but I can tell she doesn’t care, we’re ok. 

“Well, don’t make me cut you off either.” She swirls a little whipped cream onto her thumb and almost kisses it off her finger absentmindedly. 

She’ll never thank me for it, but I’m glad it was a good idea. I’m glad she likes it. She didn’t even have to ask. I know what Laura likes. She’ll eat more strawberries than cake. It’s....it’s good. 

“James look!” She gestures to the blanket, “The camera!” 

“Alright,” He presses a few buttons and, “We’re rolling!” 

“And the pièce de résistance!“ She places a final plate of sliced cake on the blanket like a crown. “Tada!” 

James lets the camera dangle from his wrist and claps and Laura bows and her hair pours forward. It’s the champagne, everything seems a little grander, slower, a little gauzy. 

I clap too, I like cream cheese icing. 

“Ah dammit, I forget extra forks! The cake’s gonna taste like pickle juice.” 

James proposes we use our hands, but he doesn’t mind using a pickle fork, so he doesn’t get the camera sticky. Laura crinkles her nose at this but soon she’s chasing me around with sugary, sweet fingers and we’re feeding cake to each other. We can’t stop laughing, its perfect. 

Where has this Laura been?

We both settle back on the blanket, giggling. Laura lays on her back and puts her knees up. Before I can overthink it, I settle into her stomach. Her body gives a little, displacing the weight of my head.

I know from biology that, the human body is like 60% water or something. The earth is like 70% water. So, a person is nearly a whole world. How strange. We’re oceans and lakes and rivers.

I want to fall asleep here. Here with Laura, in the middle of the sea on the Fourth of July. Her fingers flow through my hair. James is sitting next to her now. They’re talking about something. I’m not sure what. I can’t hear them over the waves and my own sighing.

“-colleges soon?”

“What?” 

“You’ll be hearing back from your colleges soon right?” Laura asks still stroking my hair. 

“Oh,” I come back from paradise to think about a more gut churning future, college. 

“Yeah, we should be getting letters back soon, I think. Maybe in a couple weeks? Maybe sooner.”

“You never told me where else you applied besides State.” 

“Oh I didn’t apply.”

“What?” Her body jerks up slightly. I sit up so she could shift to look at me. 

“Oh yeah, I decided not to.” 

“But...you have to. Donna you have to.” 

Why is she so serious? 

“Laura, how could I abandon my truest love,” I say as she eyes me nervously. “the dance!” 

 

“Oh brother,” she rolls her eyes and settles her shoulders, “C’mon, where did you apply?”

“I’m serious, I’m gonna run off to Vegas and join a chorus line. Show off these legs.”

“So you’re just...not going to tell me? Or?” 

‘You ain’t seen the best of me yet...don’t you know who I am?’”

“Donna Hayward, you’re no dancer.” 

“People will see me and cry Laura!” I drape my hand over my forehead dramatically.

Laura lets a smile break out over her face and sings at me, “I'm gonna make it to heaven, light up the sky like a flame!”

James watches the two of us rise to our feet as we both shout, “FAME!”

“I’m gonna live forever!”

“Baby, remember my name!”

“James we’re gonna need your bike to ride off to Vegas, but I think, we need an audition tape first.” 

“We need a routine.” I say.

“Okay, maybe like,” She rolls her arms, “a couple of these and a shimmy?”

“Yeah! Alright.” 

“James, we’re ready for our close up!” 

James scrambles to his feet and suddenly we’re Rockettes. I follow Laura’s lead and, it's funny, it turns into this thing we used to do growing up, like a secret handshake. A weird muscle memory. We spin around and lo-five and bump hips and we’re laughing again. It feel so good. It feels like I never ever ever lost her and I’d never lose her again. Like we were promising something, a new pact. 

Laura sways towards James, “So, what do you think, did we make the cut?” 

James looks up from the camera, “Ran outta tape, but I think you’re gonna make it big.” 

“I told you,” She winds her arms around him and she’s dancing with James too. A slow dance. The laughter is still vibrating in my chest as I settle back down into the blanket. I watch them, I don’t stop myself this time. I can hear the music, the jukebox, the roadhouse, the symphony. Their hips, back and forth and back and forth, like the ocean, the waves, the heat. 

The stars are so bright when they’re alone. Then the fireworks come and you can’t imagine something more spectacular. When the last spark, ripples into nothing, you feel cold. They’re just white specks in the dark. Lint. Nothing. Tiny bugs in the dirt. I run my finger along the curves of the champagne bottle. I could finish it off, but I gotta drive home soon. I shouldn’t. 

Maybe James sees me, cause he tells Laura softly that, “We ought to pack it in.”

Laura looks nervous about this.

“We don’t have to, it’s not too dark yet and besides, I’m gonna steal your bike remember? And ride far, far, away. You shouldn’t have given me those lessons.”

“I’ll just go with you,” he whispers into her hair, still rocking her back and forth on her heels.

“Then who will look after Donna?” 

“I’m a big girl Laura, I can look after myself,” I call up from the blanket. 

Who’s gonna look after you Laura? Who’s gonna worry about you?

She stops moving with James and time moves forward again. It rushes forward to catch up and I almost don’t see her sit next to me. 

“I know that.” She puts her arm around my shoulder, and lets her head rest on mine, “I just like to be sure.” 

“Why don’t we escape to the mountains? We won’t need James’ bike. We’ll just live right here.” 

“I’d like that,” I temper a sigh that curls out of me. Living here with Laura, could be worse, “but I think my parents would miss me. Or at least, Mom’s gonna miss that tupperware.”

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right.” Laura stands up and brushes her hands with her skirt, “Can’t upset Ma Hayward. Let’s pack it up then.” 

Laura is whispering with James over something as I finish arranging our things. He nods and they kiss softly. Quickly. A peck. An agreement has been made. The basket gets strapped to the bike and James, assumes his identity by way of his leather jacket. 

“See you in school Donna Hayward!” 

“Okay!” is all I can think to say. 

Laura walks over to James on the bike but she doesn’t get on. 

“Bye James,” She whispers and they kiss again. Not a peck. It’s pushy and impatient.  
It doesn’t hit me until James revs the engine that she’s not going with him. 

The motorcycle spits up gravel and dirt at us as it speeds away. The growl of the engine soon turns into a buzzing, like a mosquito you’re not sure is there or just in your head. Eventually though as the dust settles, there’s no question, it’s just the two of us. 

“You wanna give me a ride home?” 

“Okay.” is all I can think to say. 

Douglas firs, our favorite trees, surround us as we start into the trail proper and the already cool light diffuses and stipples on to the forest floor. The crunching of dirt and leaves beneath us is so loud. My mother’s tupperware is even more chatty than us as it slides back and forth in its paper bag coach. I want her to say anything right now. Acknowledge me. I want her to tell me she wanted to walk back with me, instead of hiding behind pushing my buttons. Doesn’t matter how gentle you do it. I don’t like the feeling.

Finally when I can’t stand the noises any more, I say, “This was fun, I’m glad you asked me to come.” I mean it but there’s too much sugar in my voice and hope she doesn't hear.

“Good.” She says quietly.

“James is really nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is. He is very, very nice.” 

The leaves huddle in on each other and turn the sky black. The light comes through in specks, pin pricks. I feel it on my skin, goosebumps. 

She’s sniffling occasionally and rubbing at the backs of her hands. It’s cold, I guess. 

“I don’t know what I bother with these sweaters for. I’m still cold. I’m always cold.” 

“I know!” I say too excitedly for a break in the silence. “I was thinking that on the way up. Too many layers that don’t do anything. I like your sweater though, I always liked that one.” 

I can hear her smile at this. I hear the corners of her mouth perk up. 

“Well you can have it for all the good it’s doing me.”

My laughter gets swallowed up by the woods as we walk forward and soon the only noises are the swishing of our skirts and my silent hope that we’ll start talking again. I can hear her hoping the same, and soon she says, “Sometimes it feels like there’s no blood in my body. That’s how cold I am Donna.”

Not what I expected. She’s so dramatic, it’s not that cold. “What? Like a zombie?

“Maybe. Ha! The living dead. That’s accurate.” She says, letting her voice trail off at the end. 

“It did get a little chilly.” 

“No, I mean all the time. All the damn time Donna. Look at my hands, I think even my fingers are turning blue.” 

She thrusts her hand toward me and I instinctively take it into my own. Mostly her hands are pink and her nails are so nicely manicured, meticulously cut and clean. Maybe they’re a little purpley by the tips, it’s hard to tell in the light of the woods. They were freezing though, like ice, I didn’t expect that. 

Did you know, about 2% of the earth’s water is locked away in ice and glaciers? Like a secret, hidden in plain sight. Floating up the the surface and changing everything around it. 

“Jesus Laura.” I let my other hand drop the paper bag with the tupperware in it and I hear it roll out somewhere on the forest floor. I just hold her hand for a second, then I set to work warming it with my own.

I squeeze it softly, like a little heart and run my thumb across the life lines on her palm. She’s watching me, I know, but I don’t look up at her. My hands cup around her hand gently and I bring it to my lips to let my breath warm them. The air from my lungs, warm and wet, summer heat. Now the fireworks are back but this time it’s me. All of it is me. 

I am the light, I am the heat, I am a world. 

I am right where she needs me the most. She never lets me be here anymore. 

It feels like I’m whispering to her, “Why not Laura? Why won’t you let me help? Laura. Why not?” Her name teetering on my lips. My lips on her hand, just barely. 

Her hands are so soft.

“That better?”

She nods but I can’t read her expression. 

“Alright, give me the other one.” 

And again, her heart in my hands, cold. My heart in my throat, racing now, full of fire. The whole forest is bright. And I see her, I see all of her. 

Then I close my eyes so I can’t see her anymore and so I can’t see what she already knows. She always knows. 

The heat from my chest, held in her hand, still whispers, “Why not Laura? Why not me?”  
When lips press against her skin, I let them rest there long enough so she knows it’s not an accident.  
I want her to know. I am here. I’m always here. Waiting. A world. A safe place. 

Then I slowly take them away. 

“How’s that?” I whisper softly. 

She doesn’t take her hand back right away. It rests there in mine. Her other hand finds her way on top of all three and she looks at me. Angry? Confused? Tired. 

It’s so still. Everything stops again, back and forth and back and forth. I can feel it just for a second, that magnetic pull. This unspoken force around us, just for a moment. 

Two worlds. Too close. The gravity. 

I’m too warm, I’m on fire. Is she still cold? 

And when the fire goes out, where will I be? Is it better to burn or be soot? 

These are questions I have in the darkness of the woods. 

Laura’s shoulders go slack and I’m quickly pulled close into her arms. That’s how gravity works. The force of attraction? Maybe? I was never good at physics. I think it’s always the larger of the two bodies that pulls the other one close, or keeps it at a distance. 

Today, I’m lucky. Today, I defy the forces of nature. The laws of physics.  
I don’t need to understand them, I guess. I don’t need to understand her. It’s ok. 

“All better. Thanks.” She doesn’t let me go when she says this. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Let’s live here instead. We can live in this second forever. Could be worse. I don't want to but I pull myself away a little to signal that if she wants to stop, we can. She pulls me right back and I let myself relax. I won't let go before she does then, bottoms up. The forest and Laura, sugar and mold and sweat and trees, the plastic fruit perfume of Laura's shampoo mixed with wet dirt, pour into my lungs to replace what I gave her. 

Then she finally gives me something back.

“Donna, you know I love you right?”

“Yeah.” I say because I do, but then “Yeah I know,” so she can't hear that I wish she'd say it more. She rocks me slightly. Back and forth and back and forth. 

“Laura?” Her name hesitantly name on my lips, “I love you too.”  
The words tumble out of me and into the woods, on to the forest floor. I won't see them again.

She lets me go and nods a couple times. Her hands pass over her eyes roughly. I look away, searching for the tupperware longer than I need to. 

The forest is a forest again. It’s black and the light still breaks through, just a little dimmer now. 

There’s a regulating of sorts as we both break free of the magnetism. Everything feels like it doesn’t fit now, like I’m missing something. She’s pulling at her sweater and straightening her skirt, I wonder if she feels it too. 

“We should go before it gets dark,” she says, then she slips her hand into my free one,  
“So I don’t get lost.”

I smile and swing her arm back and forth, like we’re just two kids again, without a care in the world. We’re still in her backyard, talking and laughing and sharing secrets. I know, it can’t be like that again. I know that. It’s ok. It’ll be something new. Something better. Just to have it change again next fall. That’ll be ok too I guess. We’ll just adapt, roll with the punches.  
I mean if anyone can it’s Laura. Me and Laura. 

Cause, Laura, can do anything.

As long as I’m with her, maybe I can too.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys....I watched that picnic video so many times for this. It also helped that right toward the end The Secret Diary was released as an audio book. Laura's so involved, it was helpful to find her, even though I'm mostly working with Donna here. Anyway...so many times. I love them both. My goodness.


End file.
